Tactical Weapons

Racing moves for in-the-packers

It's also possible to surge on the flats, banking on the likelihood that most people believe the lose-contact-and-you're-broken myth and are therefore breakable.

The trick's pretty simple. If you're running in close contact with them, you pick up the pace for a couple of hundred yards, and see what they do. Sometimes they'll let you go; sometimes they'll stay with you. Either way, you'll have them wondering how long you can sustain it. You then drop back to the original race pace to recover, then do it again. This can also work if you've done more track work, especially involving short intervals at substantially faster than race pace.

A couple of years ago, one of the tactically smartest women I've ever coached beat her archrival that way in a cross country race. The course was wickedly tough, so I'd told her to attack when the footing was good and recover when it wasn't. About a kilometer in, she hit a long downgrade on good footing, where she surged to the lead and kept going until the the course dived off the brow of a hill so steep you nearly went airborne. Then, still on the slope, it made a 90-degree bend into thick, wet grass. Since not breaking a leg always trumps winning, she slowed on the downgrade, then took my advice and recovered through the grass.

To her disappointment, her rival caught up. But then the course hit a bike path and my runner, recovered, surged again–a move that her rival, tired from the heavy grass, couldn't match. There were three more miles to the finish, but the race was over.

In that case, my clubmate was using mixed terrain for maximum benefit. But tactical surges can also be demoralizing. Once, during the last two miles of a 10K, an acquaintance of mine had been throwing surges at a rival who usually beat him. His rival had been letting him go, then reeling him back in, though it had taken a bit longer each time.

Nearing the finish, my acquaintance went into his finishing kick, only he'd started earlier than he'd realized and nearly died before the end. But perhaps because of the error, it worked. "The guy assumed that if I was in such good shape that I'd start my kick 700 meters out, there was no way he was going to beat me, so he let me go," he said later.

Scheme the Corners

A lot of runners lose time on curves. They go on autopilot and fail to run the tangents, or they blow too much energy on those U-turns around cones.

Other than boxing people out on corners, you can't make them run badly through the curves. But most non-elites run curves poorly, so you can gain a few steps on them with each twist. If the other runner is leading, don't blindly follow. Concentrate on plotting the most efficient (but safe) route through each curve so that your opponent will have to surge a bit each time to hold his lead. Concentrate on the same thing if you're leading, while also making sure that if the other runner tries to pass you on a curve he has to swing wide to do it. In a tight race, you never know which tiny expenditure of extra energy is the one that's going to leave your opponent overextended and no longer able to keep up.

Corners are also good places for tactical surges. If you surge through or immediately after a corner, you may pick up a few steps on your rival before he realizes it–enough to convince him to give up, especially if he's already on the verge.

Just as important are those cones that mark 180-degree turns. Most people hug close to them, trying to minimize the distance traveled. But that requires them, essentially, to stop, turn around, and accelerate back to pace. I can (with less effort) gain several meters on people who do that by swinging wider, though I may have to surge before I get to the cone to make sure I'm not boxed. You also have to be alert to avoid colliding with other runners, who probably aren't expecting this move.

Never Give Up

Whatever you do, don't concede the race until it's over. The other runner might get a side stitch, or have some other problem. I know a very good runner who's prone to catastrophic stitches, and I myself once had a shoe come untied in the final 1,200 meters of a 5K. I was close enough to the finish that it seemed best to keep running, but I was afraid to kick for fear of running out of the shoe.

Similarly, in another USATF cross country race, I spent the last 800 meters chasing a pack of runners who looked uncatchably far ahead. Then one dropped out of the pack. I still didn't think I'd get him, but it was the nationals, and while I was well back in the pack, I was going to move up if I could.

Meanwhile, the other runner gave up chasing those in front of him, and when he eased off in the final 10 meters, I got him with only a step to spare.

So, never give up. (Also, double-knot your shoes, and run through the line, not to it!)

Another rule is to never look back. (Unless, of course, there's a safety-related issue, such as a runner you might cut off on a corner.) The race, coaches like to say, is ahead, not behind. Looking back is tantamount to shooting off a distress flare. I'm afraid of you, it says. When people look back at me, my instant thought is, "You're mine." I may not always get them–there might not be enough course left to give me a chance–but a single glance is all it takes to tell me the other runner is out of gas. Not a message you want to advertise.

If you really want to know what's going on behind you, there are subtler ways to find out. Out-and-back courses give you useful information without telegraphing your interest in it. Nearly as good is keeping your ears open. The race officials and friends who shout directions or encouragement to you will be doing the same for those behind you.

But no matter what you hear, don't look back. And if Sara or Tom passes, act like it's of no account. It's a long race; let them think you might take them back later.

Know Your Kick

Some folks like to lead and get nervous if you push them from behind. You can't be sure, but odds are they don't have much kick. Kickers, meanwhile, are accustomed to hanging back. If you're locked in a duel in the final mile of a race, your rival's preferred position may give you some information as to what to expect in the final 400 meters.

But in general, I'd rather rely on what I know of myself. I'm not a kicker. From 200 meters out, there aren't many people who aren't going to get me. For that matter, I'd rather not test my odds from 400 meters.

When I'm up against kickers, my preferred way of winning is to run the kick out of them before they get a chance to unleash a gear I can't match. This usually means pushing hard from at least a mile out. My goal is to open a big enough gap that they won't be tempted to give it 100 percent at the end, and won't discover how vulnerable I am to anyone with a decent kick.

If you run a lot of track workouts, you know your best distances. Match that knowledge against how much energy you have left in a race, and pick the optimum distance from which to make your final move. I can usually start making a move from a mile out, but I can sometimes wait until the last 600 to 800 meters. But if anyone's still with me with less than 300 meters to go, it's probably a lost cause.

If you are a kicker, of course, your tactics are reversed: hang on until you're ready, then pounce.

You'll drive folks like me nuts...which, of course, is half the fun! And, win or lose, playing with tactics is a fun way to spice up your racing life and see what it's like to be among the elite at the front of the pack.